


I Know.

by Meowzalot



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fingerfucking, M/M, Military Kink, Sherlock in uniform, They roleplay a bit, kind of, lots of lube, roughish sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:30:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowzalot/pseuds/Meowzalot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: "Established Johnlock relationship. Military kink. Spanking. Finger fucking with leather glove."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know.

**Author's Note:**

> A friend(you are. Deal with it. :3) tossed me a few ideas when I was in a bad mood. Not quite as kinky as I wanted but I enjoyed it.
> 
> Also, I know it feels a little OOC talk wise but they're roleplaying. And you can't say Sherlock doesn't commit when he gets excited.

Everyone just had those days were nothing felt like it went correctly. Those days were the idea of a hot shower and bed were the only things that kept a person going. John Watson had had those days more than he could honestly count but today felt worse than all of’em almost. Obviously not counting his Army days.

Even taking the steps up to the flat he shared with Sherlock felt like too much. He just prayed there wouldn’t be a mess to clean up, nothing burning, rotting or decomposing on their kitchen table. Things weren’t easy with Sherlock but they were far from boring at least.

All John Watson wanted was a kiss, tea, shower, and their bed. Hopefully with Sherlock in it.

John shut the door behind him with a sigh, grinning at the faint scent of tea. Wait. Sherlock made tea? “Sherlock? Everything alright?” He called, stepping further into the flat.

“Long day at the practice I see.” The voice drifted from the cracked door of their shared bedroom before it creaked open, causing John to nearly whimper.

Sherlock Holmes was a beautiful man. The mere sight of him still brought the blood rushing through Johns body. This was something different completely. Sherlock stood there wearing dessert issue military trousers tucked into standard issued boots. Instead of a proper shirt he just wore a white tank that clung to his slender form like a second skin. And around his bloody neck laid a very familiar pair of dog tags.

John could barely react as all the blood drained from his brain straight to between his legs. Even if he could have hid his reaction Sherlock would have no doubt noticed it already. Brilliant bastard.

“Captain John Watson, sir. I need to speak with you.” Sherlock spoke calmly but John could see how his pupils widened, the way his cheeks flushed just a tad.

“What seems to be the issue, Lieutenant?” John had to clear his throat, almost glaring as the smirk on those cupid bow lips grew bigger.

“Bored, sir.” Sherlock sighed like it was the worst thing to ever happen to him. 

Sherlock pushed himself from the leaning spot on the doorframe, both strutting and swaying his way over and John could barely move.

“’Fraid I can’t help you much there, Lieutenant. You’ll have to learn how to amuse yourself.” John said firmly as a long fingered hand came closer to his face. John nearly melted at the gentle stroke to his face, skin tingling at the feeling of Sherlocks experiment calloused hand cupping his cheek before quickly going to the nape of his neck.

Without warning John felt his head yanked back, warm breathe teasing at his ear. “Word?”

“Mycroft.”

“Of course.” Sherlock chuckled in a deep rumble before biting down on his earlobe, fingers tightening in Johns hair.

John licked at his lips, eyes drifting shut as his hands reached up to grab onto the others bare arms. Those scorching lips were at his throat before John knew it, tearing out a small moan as teeth dug into a pulse point. 

“Lieutenant!” He barked, shoving Sherlock away roughly. Well, as roughly as he could when all he wanted to do was shove the man down and climb atop him.

Sherlock reached up, wiping at moist lips with the back of his hand. “Hm, don’t play the insulted Captain, sir.” Pupil blown eyes narrowed at him, causing John to tremble even as his back straightened. “Whenever you so much as look in my direction I can see your pupils dilate, the slight increase of breathing, and sometimes even a blush. That highly depends on if you had a dream of a sexual nature with me in it.”

The button up shirt felt too tight, as did the dress trousers.

A rough hand went between Johns legs, squeezing the growing bulge until he gasped. With tears in his eyes John grabbed onto Sherlocks shoulders, grinding against the friction.  
“I’ll have you begging for cock by the time I’m through with you.” The growled threat was accompanied by another squeeze.

Sherlock was an amazing actor but John was too distracted to think about his lovers skills. He was quickly losing himself in their little games. John felt his heart quicken with fear at getting caught, and lust stronger than anything he’d ever felt.

They stood there, John panting heavily and Sherlock watching him with a mockingly proud gaze as his hand constricted in rhythm with Johns gyrating hips.

 

John could feel the blood fill his cock, leaving him light headed. Hell, he could even feel it throbbing along with the rapid beating of his heart.

“Are you ready to beg, Captain Watson?” Sherlock purred into his ear, trailing his tongue along the outer shell.

“Lieutenant, this is most improper.” John groaned, tongue darting out to lick over dry lips.

With a small sigh Sherlock pulled away, smirking as Johns body went to follow his. “I can read every thought in your gorgeous head, Captain. Every little dream you’ve ever had about me, everything you’ve ever thought of when jerking off. All of it is right there for the right person to see.” The words were barely above a whisper but they echoed in Johns head.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re quite the cocky bastard.” John said firmly despite the tremble in his voice and tenting of his trousers. The brief moment his eyes dared to glance down John forced his knees to buckle.

The front of Sherlocks dessert camo pants had a wet patch right at the bulge. John was so busy staring he barely noticed Sherlock moving until that tempting little wet spot moved, forcing his eyes up to follow the long body.

John licked his lips as his gaze followed that tight arse, the way it moved as if begging him to follow. The rules of the game forced him to remain in place until called over. That’s how the game worked.

 

It was easy to play a role but keep your mind clear. Sherlock knew he wasn’t being arrogant when he said it was a skill he’d mastered.

Right now he was a Lieutenant about to take his Captain until the man begged for more. Under that he was merely Sherlock, a man watching his John Watson crumble under his advances. This little taste of control John gave him was almost was perfect as the drugs he’d used to shoot up with.

Falling back into his chair Sherlock arched his hips, reaching down to give his groin a slow adjustment just for Johns benefit.

Everything he’d said had been true. Before they had started sleeping together Sherlock had known every morning when John had dreamt of them together, or even after a shower when the temptation had become too much for the honorable John Watson. There had been fantasies on his half as well. As embarrassing as it was but John was different from everyone else.

Sherlock leaned back, rolling his hips. “Captain.”

John started to move towards him before freezing, that teasing tongue darting out to lick over a mouth Sherlock had spent an embarrassing amount of time dreaming about. He watched those gun colored eyes dart around the room, judging how quickly he could make it to the bedroom for a small chase.

Giving a somewhat dramatic moan Sherlock reached down to cup himself when he’d gotten Johns attention back. “Come. Here.”

With John Watson on his knees everything else seemed to melt away. Reaching down Sherlock gave the sandy blonde hair a gentle stroke before gripping roughly, pulling his face in closer to his lap. “You will beg, Captain.”

Strong hands rubbed at his thighs as John closed the distance, burying his face in the rough material with a small moan.

Sherlock had to force his head not to roll back as a warm mouth latched onto that darkening spot over his groin, a firm tongue brushing over it.

John sucked lightly at the material, tongue circling that area over and over. “Oh, John.” Sherlock sighed blissfully, arching his hips. When John pulled off slightly he frowned downward, blood running hot when fingers tightened on his thighs.

“That’s ‘Captain Watson’ to you, Lieutenant.”

“Is that so, ‘Captain’?” Sherlock growled, yanking Johns head upward as he leaned down to capture the others lips. Even on his knees John didn’t completely fall apart under the rough treatment. When John dared to bite at Sherlocks lower lip the action was returned. Sherlock bit down hard, tugging gently before running his tongue over the teeth marks he’d left. Pulling back he got a nice eyeful of Johns plumped lower lip, eyes shimmering with instinctive tears. That image had a nice spot in his Mind Palace.

Nodding towards the couch Sherlock pushed John away to where he fell back onto his arse. Sherlock watched as John got up, making his way to the couch. 

“Trousers off.”

John hesitated there, trembling as his fingers worked over the button and zipper.

 

John knew better than to push both pants and trousers down. Sherlock had only said trousers so that’s what he pushed down, leaving it to puddle around his ankles.

Adrenaline spiked as he fought the urge to cover the front of his red briefs. Behind him he listened to Sherlock remove himself from the chair, boots making a soft ‘thump’ on the floor as he walked.

Even without looking John could feel Sherlock watching him like some experiment under the scope. The attention should have been embarrassing with him just standing there in a button up and tight red pants, his trousers at his feet. Instead the silent attention aroused him further. His hands fisted by his sides, wanting nothing more than to yank the red cotton down and stroke.

Something cool reached into the waist band of his briefs, causing some confusion until it clicked. Sherlock was wearing gloves. Leather from the feel of it. Unable to help himself John looked over his shoulder to get a glimpse.

The elastic waist band was pulled back and sharply let go, sending a tiny jolt from the point of contact. “Captain Watson.” Sherlock warned.

John turned his gaze back towards the wall, biting back a moan as the waist band was tugged back again.

“Over.”

The word had barely been uttered before John was bending over, stretching somewhat to grab the back of the couch. With Sherlock humming in soft contentment John felt his pants join his trousers on the floor, a leather clad hand grabbing one arse cheek hard.

John kept his head bowed, biting at a still tender lip as the fingers kneaded his flesh.

Without warning the hand pulled back only to come back down hard, the loud slap of leather on skin vibrating through the room.

“Bloody hell!” John groaned, cock giving a violent twitch between his legs. 

“Captain Watson, such language.” Sherlock mocked. “Hardly fitting for a man your rank, wouldn’t you say?”

The hand came back down over and over. Only with enough pause so each slap would be felt. By the end of it both men were panting, John flexing his fingers on the couch. The burning ache kept his mind focused, clear of everything but them.

Rolling his hips forward into the air John groaned weakly, mentally begging for attention.

 

Johns arse was littered with red. Almost hot to the touch even with his gloves on. Sherlock was loathed to admit weakness in baser desires but having John like this brought that weakness out full force. His cock practically wept to be buried to the hilt inside Johns body. His Johns body.

“It can end so easily, Captain.”

“Fuck off.” John might have tried to sound intimidating but the breathy tone of his voice ruined that effect.

‘Tsking’ softly Sherlock started pushing the shirt up Johns back, other hand reaching into a deep pocket to pull out a small bottle.

Sherlock watched his lovers entire body tense at the soft ‘pop’ of the lid. The subtle cues of Johns frame expressed confusion but also begged for more. Bringing his hand back down he used it to push the smooth cheeks apart, enough to expose the puckered hole that nearly had his mouth watering.

“Oh hell. .” John gasped, hips jerking back.

Chuckling softly Sherlock tilted the bottle, giving a tiny squeeze to pour the lubrication over the others hole. Carefully more of the clear liquid was squeezed into the little dimple at Johns lower back before the bottle itself was placed right above it.

“Keep perfectly still.” Sherlock said firmly, running his fingers through the puddle until the leather almost dripped.

As expected it was slow going to push even one finger inside while wearing the glove. A little part of his mind worried about John liking it but the muffled moans, groans, and curse gave reason enough to keep going.

Lube dripped onto the floor to be ignored at a later time or even completely forgotten. Sherlock was certainly uncaring as he used more to help wiggle the leather covered finger in deeper, loving how John struggled to keep still.

The second finger was a bit more difficult.

“This is our dear Captain Watson. A proud man who loves taking it up the arse.” Sherlock chuckled, pushing both fingers in deeper.

John could only give a loud moan in reply, hips pushing back hard and nearly sending the bottle of lube falling to the floor from his back.

The hand holding the still pink cheeks apart moved, running through the lube on his back before reaching around to grasp between his Johns legs.

“There!” John cried out, thrusting back only to arch forward as if to fuck between on Sherlocks fingers and hand alone.

Sherlock was oddly content enough to watch for a moment, even twisting his fingers and scissoring the long digits. He knew every cue of Johns body. Whenever John came close to the edge Sherlock released his grip, smirking at the frustrated cry beneath him.

A little breather and they’d start all over again.

 

With the glove it felt tighter, more painful. John ground backwards into the probing digits, thighs tensing with the action. The hand around his cock let go completely, leaving him confused before it returned. Had it even removed itself?

Bloody hell! Must have. Now it was a bare hand gripping his length, squeezing hard as Sherlock rubbed the pad of his thumb roughly over the leaking slit. “B-bastard.” John moaned, wincing when the grip tightened.

“Language, Captain.”

The fingers inside worked him harder, always avoiding his prostate. Sherlock always did that on purpose! Just barely brushing near the spot but doing more than enough to taunt him.

“P-please.” John gasped, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Hmm?”

“Fuck me! That’s a bloody order!” John shouted, glaring over his shoulder.

Without warning John found himself pushed onto the couch and flipped, a still clothed Sherlock leaning over him.

Using the dog tags John yanked Sherlock down, kissing him hard. The bottle of lube had completely dropped from his mind with every other stimulation. All he could think about was Sherlock fucking him into the couch until neither of them could move. The very image nearly had him ready to cum.

John gasped as he was shoved backwards, a sharp hand slapping his thighs to part them. Apparently Sherlock still had the common sense to find the lube. John could only stare, heart pounding as he watched Sherlock simply tip the bottle over and pour it onto his exposed length.

Sherlock grabbed onto the back of the couch with one hand, smirking down at him.

“The proud Captain John Watson. All mine.” Sherlock growled, positioning himself before pushing in almost half way on the first thrust.

John grasped at his lovers arms, squeezing hard to keep from crying out. One of his legs was looped over Sherlocks elbow, causing an ache to start in his lower back but right now everything just felt perfect.

The rough material of the others trousers rubbed at his cheeks when Sherlock bottomed out inside him, gyrating his hips.

That was the only moment for rest. Sherlock took up a hard rhythm that had the couch banging into the wall, John pinned between him and the protesting piece of furniture.

“Right there, Sherlock! Please!” John cried out, tears burning in his eyes as he felt Sherlock hit his prostate over and over. His nails dug into sweaty biceps, no doubt leaving bruises behind.

Everything came crashing down at the tightening coil in his gut sprung. White spurts stained both their shirts before Johns wet cock went limp, still twitching slightly.

“John!” Sherlocks voice echoed in his skull.

With only that warning John felt a hot gush fill him, nearly rocking him into another orgasm. John felt the world swim before his eyes before they closed, all the energy just draining from him.

 

When John came back to the world it was only to find himself in their bed, naked body feeling sore and aching. Otherwise rather clean.

Groaning weakly he rolled onto his side, searching the room. “Sherlock?” He called out, relaxing slightly at sounds of movement coming from the kitchen.

“Mrs. Hudson will charge extra if there are holes in the wall.” Sherlock came barreling into the room carrying a tray littered with snacks and tea.

John just grumbled a cheeky reply about gun shots being worse as he lay back down, reaching out to tug lightly at Sherlocks dressing gown sleeve.

“Bed. That’s an order.” He yawned, smiling when Sherlock did as requested. Strong arms were around him the next moment, pulling Johns body in close.

Surrounded by Sherlocks scent John started to doze off again, not noticing how he held tightly onto the taller figure.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to comment if you want.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
